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There is none. I can’t say that I blame them for their caution when I’m a trained alpha warrior who has honed his skills fighting orcs.
I expect to be left alone for a good while, so it comes as a surprise when the door creaks open and another guard slips in, closing it quietly behind him. He doesn’t say anything.
I don’t either. He’s just caught me messing with the fucking chain. He’s probably going to beat me or go and get a thicker chain and make sure they add rat poison to my next batch of food.
“I fought the Blighten to the north. Didn’t serve with you, but I know of you through other men.”
My heart rate quickens.
“The king has—” His head suddenly swings to look over his shoulder.
Beyond the door, I hear the sound of Marshal’s nasal voice. “Open it at once! I want to see my prisoner.”
The guard gives me a look I can’t decipher.
I nod, hoping he will take it as my acknowledgment that I will hold my fucking tongue.
Then he thrusts the door open and Marshal stalks in, all perky and rested in his fine winter jacket. His suspicious eyes rake over me before shifting to the guard. “What are you doing in here?”
The guard flexes his knuckles. “I heard he gave the men a bit of trouble. I figured I’d put a thumping on him.”
Marshal smirks. “Go ahead then, Tully.”
“It’s already done, milord.”
I must look fucking rough because Marshall accepts this. I let my shoulder slump a little, playing into the beaten ruse. I don’t know who the fuck Tully is, but he’s not an enemy to me, that is certain. Further, he has just lied to his lord. Lor made connections to many of the city guards, some of whom we served with during the war. I did not know he had made connections with any in the employment of Marshal.
My hope soars, even as the bastard lord preens and steps over closer to me.
“The chains are secure?” he asks Tully as two more guards shoulder into the open doorway.
“They are milord,” Tully replies. “I also supervised a pinch of wormroot in his porridge this morning. His reactions will be slow.”
A prickling kicks off underneath my skin again, followed by a surge of panic as I wonder if he did.
But no. My pounding heart slows again as I sense no ill effects save for the beating I already took.
“Good,” Marshal says. “I want—”
A commotion comes from beyond the doorway, and a great cry goes up.
“What is the meaning of this?” Marshal blusters, striding from my prison room.
“Seize him!” a call comes from beyond.
I can’t see much of what goes on, only a rush of movement and the clamor of booted feet.
The two guards go to follow their lord, but Tully is faster than them. Dagger in his hand, he brings the hilt down over the back of the first guard’s head. As the guard slumps to the floor, he takes the second one in a headlock and squeezes. The guard thrashes and kicks until the fight goes out of him, and Tully drops him to the floor.
Then he surprises me by dropping first his dagger and then his sword to the floor and holding both hands up.
A soldier in the livery of the king’s guard nears, blade trained on Tully.
“Captain Tully, by special orders of the king,” Tully announces.
The king’s soldier sheaths his sword and snaps to attention. “Captain Tully! We were told to look out for you. Good to see you, sir! The criminals and their associates have been apprehended.”
“The omega has been locked in a servant’s quarters of the attic.”
